


Ineffable Rules

by Strange_Omens (Strange_johnlock)



Category: Good Omens (TV)
Genre: Ducks, First Kiss, Fluff, Idiots in Love, Ineffable Husbands (Good Omens), Love Confessions, M/M, Mutual Pining, Post-Canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-09
Updated: 2019-10-09
Packaged: 2020-11-28 15:10:02
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,775
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20968598
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Strange_johnlock/pseuds/Strange_Omens
Summary: “Now that we are on our side,” He catches himself smiling at that, and there is a twitch around Crowley’s mouth as well. “I thought we should have some rules.”





	Ineffable Rules

„Crowley?“

The angel tilts his head slightly, to look at the man beside him. Benches in St. James’s Park weren’t made for slouching, still Crowley slouching looked like he was made for the benches in St. James’s Park, and Aziraphale would never admit how much he liked watching him doing it. Not that it took a lot of effort for Crowley to slouch. If he thought about it, it might be the demon’s standard setting. When Aziraphale had been within the demon’s body, it had slouched by itself, not much acting needed from him. His own body, on the other hand, was not made for coolness in any way, and Crowley is very cool when he nods briefly to signal that he is listening.

“Now that we are on our side,” He catches himself smiling at that, and there is a twitch around Crowley’s mouth as well. “I thought we should have some rules.”

“Rules?” Crowley huffs, turning to look at the angel “I thought we were just… following general human moral codes.”

He waves his hands through the air to gesture to all the humans currently walking in St. James Park. “Never been a big fan of rules, either.”

“Well, they are necessary for a functioning society, Crowley.” The angel smiles, and takes a small cream-coloured notebook from his coat pocket, and opens it on the first page. Trying to hide his curiosity, the demon pretends to watch the ducks instead. They watch back, for a moment.

“Society? Our side consists of two people. You, and me, not much of a society, are we?” He shrugs his shoulders and adjusts his legs slightly.

“Well, we do have to get along, don’t we? Else, it might end up in chaos.” The angel seems adamant, already scribbling down the heading to his book of rules in his handwriting that could only be more celestial if he added wings to every letter.

The rules of our side. The T would have wings, the u, the o, the e, maybe. And Crowley would love it, find it just quirky enough to fit his angel.

“First rule, and I came up with this one last night, is that I, Aziraphale, am allowed to have as much sushi as I want. No talking about celestial bodies, or such utter nonsense.” The angel licks his lips, as he writes, and Crowley knows him well enough to skim through his mental list of sushi restaurants they could go to after.

“Second rule, Aziraphale is allowed to have as many crepes…”

Crowley huffs a laugh. “Can we just skip to rule three hundred twenty-two, until all your favourite foods are covered?” He suggests and sees Aziraphale purse his lips, before he forces a smile.

“Very well, then.” He scratches out ‘sushi’ and replaces it with food. “That saves us quite a lot of work. And paper.”

“And nerves.” Crowley lulls his head back, looking up at the cloud-speckled sky. “You sure that should be the first rule?”

The angel clears his throat. “We can always change the order, Crowley, this is a work in progress.”

“Progress, then.” Crowley said, only half listening as the angel notes down ten more food and drink related rules.

“Rule number ten, and you’re going to like that one, dear boy, should be that you are allowed to go over ninety miles an hour in central London, in case of an emergency. Even when I am on board.”

“That one, I can agree on.” Crowley agrees, and wonders, if Aziraphale would even notice if he just took a quick nap, about an hour or two. As much as he liked spending time with the man he had started to refer to as his angel, watching him write down stupid rules was just a bit boring. He’d rather watch Aziraphale attempt to teach the ducks the gavotte or read out the entire menu of his favourite Thai restaurant in Soho.

“Rule number ninety-eight.” Aziraphale flipped the page, and Crowley must have dozed off for a bit, after Aziraphale had stopped talking about his Bentley and ranted on about books.

“Animals are our friends.”

“Sounds hippy-esque.”

“I have a love for all creatures, Crowley, I am an angel…” That makes Aziraphale shut up, and the demon can sense the sadness in the way he tries to smile. He is right. They aren’t angel and demon anymore, not after deciding to be on their own side, and stop the apocalypse. Now, they are just two men with strange abilities and an inability to die. Aziraphale has always enjoyed being an angel more than Crowley wanted to be a creature of hell, and he was surely missing it. And Crowley bites back on any snarky comment.

“Well, anyway, we have learned that boiling whales and dolphins isn’t something we can support.”

“Clashes a bit with rule number one, doesn’t it? With all the eating animals?”

“Oh, you are no fun.” Aziraphale adjusts his bow tie. “Animals are friends and food.”

“Controversial.” Crowley lifts his glasses a bit, to look at the angel, head lulling to the side.

The angel chooses to ignore that, but refrains from writing the rule down, instead tapping the pen to his lips repeatedly, thinking, coming up with more idiotic rules and Crowley is so fond of him, he might burst at some point.

He passes the time between rule one hundred and three and one hundred and eighty-six by thinking back to every other moment he has been fond of the angel, starting on the wall of Eden. He’d met an angel who had, in the first days of human existence, already broken a rule by giving away his sword, and Crowley- Crowley- had been intrigued. It had been this non-angelic behaviour, those discussions, that had made him seek the angel’s company over and over again, until he had admitted to himself that he just liked hanging out with Aziraphale. That was in 38 ad. Or maybe a thousand years earlier, he wasn’t sure.

Aziraphale, of course, had caught up rather quickly, but it had taken him longer to admit it to himself, and it had been fourteen days, since he decided the apocalypse had to be stopped. For two weeks, sixteen hours and four minutes exactly, they were now on their own side, neither heaven or hell. And between hellfire and rubber ducks, Crowley has been made so sure that his best friend is simultaneously the love of his life. He is willing to wait for Aziraphale to catch up, and it might take another millennia but that is nothing compared to the eternity they have together. If heaven and hell choose to finally leave earth alone, that is.

“How about ‘Aziraphale is not allowed to do magic tricks ever again.” He points out, no idea what number they are at now.

The angel looks at him so affronted, Crowley can’t keep the smile off his face.

“Well, I thought, we’d focus on the positive.”

“Sly bastard.” Crowley grins, raising an eyebrow. “You never attempting to entertain again, ever, is very positive for me.”

The angel smiles at him, surprisingly. “Oh, you tease.” He says and doesn’t write the rule down.

By rule number two-hundred and four, Crowley is laying across the bench, his head resting on a warm thigh, not really sure how he ended up in that position, as the angel rambles on. From down here, he could see the underside of Aziraphale’s chin, one of the few places on his body he hasn’t seen yet, if his forehead weren’t currently used to rest the notebook on. Crowley isn’t going to complain, though, because they are rarely so close, and his earthly body enjoys the warm softness of the angel’s upper thigh immensely.

“I have one more rule I’d like to discuss with you.” The angel lifts the notebook and looks down on him, and his chin has two more chins that way, which Crowley finds to be fascinating. Also, his nose is ridiculous from this angle.

Shrugging his shoulders, not really caring for all those new enthusiasm for rules, and knowing his opinions don’t really matter, anyway.

“I phrased it like this.” Aziraphale clears his throat. “Crowley, former demon, and Aziraphale, former angel, might kiss.”

At that, Crowley sits up straight as a board, knocking the notebook out of the angel’s hands. It falls onto the path, to the angel’s feet, and Aziraphale’s expression of surprise would have made Crowley laugh at any other point in time. Right now, he is probably mirroring it a thousand fold, taking a moment to get his thoughts in order.

After all those rules, this utter nonsense, why would that be part of Aziraphale’s list?

“Wait, all of your rules were just things you wanted to do, right?” He jumps to his feet and picks up the notebook. At that, the angel nods knowingly, the sly bastard.

“Well, then we can just do what we want, without any rules, like we have been doing for 6000 bloody years.”

Another nod, and Crowley skims through the notes, before he closes the book, aims, and throws it into the pond.

A moment later, three ducks, two swans and a carp with a headache watch, as a lanky redhead launches himself at a slightly chubby fellow in what they believe to be fancy clothes, pressing their faces against each other. They don’t know how much this small gesture means to both men, how much they wanted this to happen. They don’t know, that between this demon and his angel, is a love that is millennia old, a love that started on the walls of Eden and that by god, has not been given an expiry date. A love that is unique, and still very human, expressed in immortal heart but felt by human bodies. All they know is that they want some more bread, because no one has told them yet that it is bad for their metabolisms.

“You planned this all along.” Crowley accuses, his glasses clattering to the floor, uncared for, kissing his own words back into that lovely, warm mouth. And by somebody, the smell and taste of his angel is both familiar and exciting and Crowley wants to spend at least a hundred years just kissing Aziraphale’s mouth, then spend another century nipping at those glorious thighs. Instead, he pulls back a bit.

Aziraphale’s nose is just as ridiculous from this close, and Crowley rubs his against the side of it, their foreheads resting against each other, as they catch their breaths.

“Well,” The angel says, between kisses. “I’m a bit of a bastard, aren’t I?”

**Author's Note:**

> First work in the fandom :)


End file.
